Hellboy: Killing Fields
by Spike Daft
Summary: Hellboy, Liz Sherman, and Abe Sapien are dispatched to Poland to investigate the slaughter of an entire villiage.
1. Chapter 1: Hotel Rooms

**Author's Note: **_The Hellboy comics and graphic novels were great. The movie, phenomenal. The novels written by Christopher Golden, simply divine. And of course Mike Mignola is a god, for it was he who created Hellboy back in ninety-three. I only hope I can do some justice to these people with this story._

_            Reviews rock, too._

- **Spike Daft**            

Hellboy: Killing Fields Chapter One: _Hotel Rooms_

Despite anything Manning could ever say to convince him otherwise, Hellboy knew he would never find a comfortable bed in a hotel room. Ever. He had been in countless hotels all over the world, and every one of the beds either creaked, was too soft, too small (he had once smashed his stone hand right through the wall behind him while stretching; luckily the room next door had been unoccupied), or was any combination thereof. The ones in the more obscure countries were the worst; Hellboy always thought they smelled funny.

            He hated things that smelled funny.

            Hence his discomfort in having to share this small, cramped room in the south of Poland with Abe, whose favourite snack had to be, of course, rotten eggs. The fishman was good company for Hellboy, admittedly; his calm, thoughtful nature nicely balanced the red-skinned demon's volatile temper and thirst for action. That was why they were most often partners on missions, and had always shared a room whenever they happened to be stationed at places other than the BPRD, but Hellboy never got used to his partner's living style. Too many books, Abe's damned headphones. The rotten eggs.

            Abe suffered equally, of course; it would be unfair to indicate otherwise. Hellboy was messy and short tempered, not to mention loud. His hooves thundered on the ground wherever he walked; the hotel rooms were always located on the ground floor lest he shake and thunder the entire building into a panic, or even fall through the floor. His weight was immense; Abe supposed that being over seven feet tall, as broad as a bus, and possessing nothing but muscle and a massive right hand made of solid stone could do that to someone.  His tail had a tendency to knock things off of shelves and topple lamps, and he cursed. A lot.

            Yet when it came down to it, as a team they had never failed a mission. Something had to be said for that; their teamwork was impeccable and Manning knew it. Elizabeth Sherman, the pyrokinetic, accompanied them more often in the months after Trevor Bruttenholm- Professor Broom's- death. Their encounter and defeat of Rasputin and the horrors he had summoned had brought her closer to the Bureau and her partners, particularly Hellboy. Gone was the reluctance she had harboured to serve the BPRD in past days; now she knew her true calling, and embraced it in a fiery grip.

            Plus, she always got her own room on these foreign endeavours. Being a girl had its perks. 

            This time was no different. Her own room was a bit smaller than that of her partners, but she didn't mind, as she was the solitary tenant. Their hotel was, actually, a small inn built onto the side of a small house that belonged to the building's owners. To preserve their privacy, Hellboy and Abe had not been introduced, but Liz had met the couple upon their arrival and immediately liked them. They did not ask questions about the other two people with which she had come, but instead had offered her homemade bread and warm welcomes in startlingly fluent English, unintimidated by the black-tinted, obviously government, vehicles in which their new tenants had arrived. 

            Night had fallen; three hours since their arrival. Liz had come into Abe and Hellboy's room, case files from the BPRD in hand. She and Abe poured over them while Hellboy hung upside-down on his bed, hooves planted on the wall, sucking boredly on a cigar while his partners pieced together what little information the Bureau had for their current mission. The Polish government had even less; so far it appeared that its cooperation with the BPRD extended only to the use of transport. They would have to figure out the majority of the destinations themselves.

            Hellboy was fine with that. He hated getting mixed up with government types, especially ones who had never before worked with the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, who thought the entire thing was a joke. Funny, Hellboy thought, how their minds were always changed after everything was said and done. The BPRD was rapidly gaining respect, but it had not extended everywhere. He did not expect any graciousness from the Polish government. He had voiced this on the plane to Abe, who had simply shook his head and called him a pessimist, but Hellboy didn't think he was being pessimistic at all. 

"Sixty miles west of Krakow, twenty miles west of Katowice, an explosion occurred in the village of Przez Las." Liz's brow was furrowed with concentration, a cup of hot tea in her hand as she studied the files in front of her. "The village is remote; it's bordered on all sides by forest, but apparently the blast was loud enough to be heard by towns and villages several miles away. Witnesses claim they felt the earth shake; there were some reports in the closer towns of minor damage; things falling and breaking, but no casualties. Word got out to officials, who came expecting an isolated incident; local terrorist, perhaps. Maybe just some psycho who knew a lot about powerful explosives. They obviously found something completely different, however, because that's when the Polish government decided to contact the Bureau, though they've never worked with us before. The information given is hazy at best; when officials arrived in Przez Las they found no blast site, no trace of any explosives. What they did find, however, was that the entire village had been slaughtered. Most of the bodies were dragged to the edge of the forest, like whatever caused the carnage wanted them out of the town but was reluctant to dispose of them in the forest itself. Reports indicate that some of the bodies appeared gnawed on; they would have thought it to be wolves and carrion birds and such save for the fact that the postmortem wounds, even upon quick inspection, were 'unusual'. No other information has been given, save for the fact that several artefacts were retrieved from the scene. Currently they are being held at a museum in Rapperswil, which is where we're headed tomorrow to inspect them. A government vehicle will arrive at ten o' clock to pick us up."

            "Ten o' clock, huh?" grunted Hellboy. "Guess they like to sleep in around here. I have no problem with that." He paused a moment, thinking, and then grunted again. "Przez Las. Say that ten times fast."

            Liz glared at him for a moment, but her expression quickly softened and she rose, crossing the room to the bed where Hellboy still dangled his torso upside-down over the bed. Part of her soul felt fused with him ever since he had called her back from the darkness when they had faced Rasputin in Russia. The kiss they had shared there in the hallway had been her first, though she would never have told anyone. The subsequent burst of flame rather explained her reluctance for intimacy of any kind, even a simple kiss, but Hellboy was fireproof. Hell, he hadn't even bitched about her scorching his jacket. 

            There were rare times in which Liz permitted herself to show fondness, and she did so now, running her fingers gently over the base of his horn stumps, down his face. He merely looked up at her, smiling slightly, but she saw his eyelids droop slightly in content. After a while she moved her hand away and turned to look at Abe, who was still reading the files. He had selected a series of books with which to attempt to learn further, but they all knew that until they could examine these artefacts, they had practically nothing to go on.

            "Give it up for the night, Abe," Liz said softly, voicing all of their thoughts. "In the morning we'll hopefully know a little more with what we're dealing with. I'm going to bed. Good night."

            " 'Night," chorused Hellboy and Abe, their voices soft; Abe's with concentration, Hellboy's with content, still lulled by Liz's hot touch upon his face.


	2. Chapter Two: Museums and Artefacts

****

**Author's Note: **_Thanks for all the reviews! They are the best kind of pay._

****

****

**Chapter Two: _Museums and Artefacts_**

"So…" Hellboy said to Abe after Liz's door had shut. "Movie?"

            Abe sighed. "In case you haven't noticed, Red, there is no television in here, let alone a VCR."

            "No TV? What kind of yuppie hovel _is_ this?" demanded Hellboy.

            Abe didn't answer, but continued to look over a few more of the books he had packed. Though Abe had little mobile facial musculature, it was obvious to Hellboy that he still wasn't having much luck.

            "Give it up, hey?" he muttered irritably. "You're not gonna find anything; we gotta see those artefacts first. Then hopefully you can read to your heart's content."

            Abe shut the book he was traversing and sighed again, leaning back against his bed. "I suppose you're right. But I hate walking into these things blind."

            "Yeah," grunted Hellboy, "me, too. But we don't have much of a choice here, and we've been able to swing it in the past."

            Now it was Abe's turn to grunt. "Pure luck."

            "Hey, it's a well known fact that I'm a lucky guy. Think of me as a good luck charm."

Lying awake in her bed, Liz could hear Abe's laughter though the wall next to her head and wondered what could possibly be so funny. 

            ***      

Hellboy was slowly awakened the next morning by being violently shaken; when he was awake enough to realise that he didn't know what the hell was happening, he irritably swiped at his attacker with his heavy tail and was rewarded by a loud "_Ouch!_"

Then Liz Sherman's voice cut through his haze of sleep. "Hellboy, goddamnit, _wake up_! We're going to be late if you keep lying around!"

"Huh?" Slowly he opened his eyes to see both his partners dressed and ready. Liz stood over him impatiently while Abe packed a small duffelbag with books, steadfastly ignoring the skirmish that was always present when waking up Hellboy. He was glad he wasn't the one chosen for wakeup duty; once he had been kicked soundly in the thigh by a sleepy and defensive hoof. It hurt.

"Okay, okay," grumbled the demon, rising and stretching. His joints cracked impossibly loudly in the small room and he let out a satisfied growl. "I'm up. When's breakfast?"

Liz pointed to a basket of warm rolls that the landlady, Mrs. Veska, had thoughtfully brought to her room about a half-hour earlier. She did not disturb her other guests at the advice of Liz, who could tell her curiosity was great, and so had left a large number of her confections for all her tenants to enjoy, whether she could meet them or not. Hellboy stared at the rolls for a minute, missing the meals he got back at the Bureau, and then shoved one whole into his mouth with a sigh of resignation, ignoring the butterdish next to the basket. Butter was too much trouble; took too much time, spreading and such, and that required the use of a utensil. He usually ignored butter if it wasn't put on his food for him.

Not that he was lazy, or anything.

***

The Polish Museum Rapperswil was a large, castle-like building surrounded by trees and overlooking a large, beautiful lake. Liz, Abe, and Hellboy followed their driver until they reached a set of large wooden doors located in a courtyard on the side of the building that was shrouded by trees. A set of massive gargoyles holding heavy rings were set into each door; they were beautiful and obviously very old. The copper was shrouded in a green patina, and Hellboy could see spiderwebs woven into the crevasses. The driver left them there, nodding respectfully and indicating that he would be waiting for them until they were through. 

Abe reached up and seized a ring, knocking it gently on the wood. The sound reverberated throughout the little courtyard and all three winced; it was very likely that all of them were grateful that it was Abe who had knocked and not Hellboy, or they'd all be deaf.

At length one of the doors opened, and a stooped, elderly man peered out. A smile graced his face as he laid eyes on his guests; Hellboy was impressed at his lack of surprise at their appearances—at least, him and Abe. 

_Must've been briefed pretty heavily_, he thought, and watched as the man opened the door all the way, revealing the younger man behind him. 

"Ah, welcome, welcome!" said the older man. His accent was English. "We've been expecting you; I think you'll be very interested in what I have to show you. My name is Professor Alan Cook; Professor Cook, as I prefer." He stepped back and motioned to the younger man behind him. "This is my understudy, Mr. Yanivich. He'll be taking over when I retire."

"Pleased to meet you," said Liz, stepping foreword and offering her hand. "My name is Liz Sherman; this is Abe Sapien and Hellboy."

Professor Cook took her offered hand and shook it warmly, and extended his hand to Abe, and finally Hellboy, who shook it as carefully as he could, afraid of hurting the old man. He glanced over at Liz, who was shaking Mr. Yanivich's hand. He held on for a bit longer than necessary and moved to Abe. Hellboy tried to quell the protective surge of irritation at this little gesture, and he had managed to stifle it as the younger man approached him and held out his hand. Hellboy wasn't so gentle with Yanivich, but he wasn't rough. No need to make a bad impression.

"I have heard much about you, Hellboy," said Yanivich in a thick Polish accent. "You are quite the legend. We are honoured to have you and your team helping us with this mystery."

"We'll do the best we can," said Hellboy, and they both followed the procession, led by Professor Cook, into the museum.

            ***

The Professor's office was located at the end of a long hallway, on the right side. The door here was not wooden, but metal; the office contained some of the museum's more valuable and dangerous artefacts and required a punch code and an access card to get in. The room itself was large and richly furnished, much like Professor Broom's office had been, and lining the walls were thick glass cases containing dozens of unusual and arcane items.

Once everyone was inside and the door shut again, Professor Cook clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. "Well, down to business, then." He drew from his pocket a key, which he used to unlock one of the cases, and withdrew a few items. Striding over to his large, oak desk, he laid them out and stood back so the BPRD agents could get a closer look.

"They found these fragments near the centre of the village, near a massive tree that had been split in two. The earth appeared disturbed there, but the investigators sifted through it and found nothing more. They were afraid to dig further; the entire site was already frightening enough for them, and they were terrified at the thought of what they might unearth. That is when they called you."

Lying on the table were there fragments of what must have once been massive chains. One fragment was distinctly different from the others; it was slender and smooth as silk, the other two forged of some unknown metal of masterful craftsmanship. The agents studied them carefully; from Abe's duffelbag Liz had removed her camera, and now took several shots of the relics. 

"What do you make of them?" asked Professor Cook anxiously. His voice shattered the quiet and all three looked up, startled.

Abe shook his head slowly. "I can tell you nothing yet," he said, "but I believe that the books I possess may provide us with some clues. This smooth chain is especially intriguing; I may be able to find something."

Professor Cook nodded, pleased, and looked to Mr. Yanivich. "You see? There is some hope, at least."

"At least we have that. It would be terrible if we could not find what slaughtered those poor people."

"Don't worry," grunted Hellboy, turning his massive body to face them. His hooves clicked on the tile floor. "Nobody kills a village full of people and gets away with it. Not on _my_ watch."

Professor Cook's warm smile returned, like the sun breaking through the clouds of a storm, and he turned as the agents followed, leading them out to the courtyard again.

"Thank you for coming," he said, shaking all their hands again. "You are always welcome back to re-investigate the artefacts again. I would gladly send them with you, but the Polish government is determined to keep their hands on them. I asked them why, said that you would surely return them when you were through, but they merely mentioned something about an incident in Sweden concerning your investigation, and that Mjollner was never returned."

Hellboy grunted, and Cook could see that his last statement had angered the demon. He must have been involved in that particular incident, he reasoned, and decided to change the subject as rapidly as possible.

"Anyway," he said quickly, "good luck to you all. I will provide you with all the help I can. The items will be here for you to examine at your leisure; either Mr. Yanivich or myself are always here to let you in. Farewell, my friends."

As Abe, Hellboy, and Liz made their way back to the car, Abe let out a sigh and hefted his dufflebag.

"Well," he said wearily. "Time to hit the books."

"I hate books," groused Hellboy, getting into the car and grazing one of his horn stumps in the process. "I wanna watch TV."

Suddenly, one of Abe's books flew through the air and hit him squarely on the forehead, beneath his horns. "_Ouch!_ Son of a- ABE! Did you throw that?!" He whirled on Abe, only to see Liz standing by the open duffelbag, her arms folded smugly. Abe was already moving to retrieve his book, a vaguely annoyed expression on his face.

"What the hell was that for?" complained Hellboy, rubbing his head.

Liz's eyes narrowed. "_That_ was for hitting me in the face with your tail this morning."


	3. Chapter Three: The Legend of Fenris

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the reviews, guys!

****

****

**Chapter Three: **_The Legend of Fenris_

"Hey Abe," said Hellboy, once they were back to the hotel. "I got a question for ya."

Abe looked up from the unpacking of his books. "What's that, Red?"

"Does that collar ever bother you?" He pointed at the aquatic breathing unit around his partner's neck. It covered his gills and hissed softly every few seconds, circulating and oxygenating the water inside. "'Cause it would bug the shit out of me."

"Not really," replied Abe. "I'd be a lot less comfortable without it."

"Good point. Just wonderin'."

"And what about you, HB?" asked Liz, who was crouched down beside Abe and smoking a cigarette. The incident with the book had been forgiven; Hellboy could never be mad at her. Plus, he figured, he deserved it. "Your turn in the hot seat. You ever get sick of that right hand of yours?"

"My hand?" Hellboy sat examining it thoughtfully. "Well, I never really thought about it. I was born with it so it's not like I know what it's like to have a… well, a _normal_ hand there, but it does get in the way a lot, now that I think of it. Kind of a nuisance, I guess, but it's saved my life a million times over. Makes combat easier, and walls ain't a problem. I guess the answer would be 'no'."

"Good answer," Liz smiled. She turned to Abe, who had selected a book and was leafing through it intently. "What's up, Abe? Find something?"

"Not yet," said Abe, "but I think I know where to start looking. When I saw those chains in Professor Cook's office it brought to mind a story in old Norse mythology, about three chains that had been crafted to restrain some kind of creature, but I cannot recall much else. It might just be enough for me to find something, though."

"Cool," Hellboy said, grabbing another roll from the basket. "At this point, that's good enough for me." Shoving the roll into his mouth, he crossed the room and sat down on his bed, which protested loudly. He withdrew the Samaritan from its holster and begun to tenderly and meticulously take it apart, cleaning every bit almost lovingly, his tail twitching with concentration. 

Liz watched him for a long time with some amusement on her face, and then got up, one of the books in her hand, and went over to him. Leaning over slightly, she gave him a gentle kiss on the top of his head, behind his right horn. "I think you love that thing more than you love me," she whispered, and then laughed at the horrified expression on his face. "I'm kidding, HB, I'm kidding! Breathe, okay? Breathe!"

Hellboy scowled at her. "You're just doing that to distract me and make me read that book, aren't you?"

"Nah," Liz replied, opening the book. "That's me and Abe's job. You're just the muscle; for now all you have to do is sit there and look pretty."

"Fat chance, lady. I'm pretty _all_ the time."

            ***

            Evening had fallen when Abe finally found what he was looking for. Hellboy had nodded off over the Samaritan, which was still in pieces, and Liz was propped up against his bed on the floor, her face hidden by a book. Every so often Hellboy's twitching tail would accidentally brush her face and she'd sigh softly, brushing it away. Abe suspected that she, too, had fallen asleep or was well on her way, and so he cleared his throat loudly and said, "I believe I've found something."

            They both came awake instantly, and Liz hurried over to him, peering over his shoulder.

            "Whatcha got, Abe?" grunted Hellboy sleepily. 

            "It says here," said Abe, tracing his finger along the page, "that in old Norse mythology there lived a great wolf of terrible power who lived by the name of Fenris, born of Loki and the goddess Angerboda. The Aesir learned that Fenris was prophesied to be responsible, along with his family, for the destruction of the world, and so by order of the gods three chains were crafted by dwarven metalsmiths to bind the creature. Each chain was named; Loding, Dromi, and Gleipner, the last of which was nothing more than a strong, thin, ribbonlike chain that was as smooth as a silk ribbon, but it was the strongest of the three. The dwarves fashioned Gleipner from six ingredients: the sound of a cat's footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, bear's sinews, fish's breath, and bird's spittle."

            "Ew," said Hellboy indignantly. "I _touched_ that thing."

            Abe glanced at him and continued. "Fenris was chained to a rock called Gioll deep beneath the earth, with a sword between his jaws to keep him from biting. There he was to remain, until the End of All Things; the Ragnarok, when he would take his rightful place amongst his family and destroy the world and its gods."  
  


            "Sounds like someone let him out early," grunted Hellboy. "This sounds like our guy; the book describes that chain—Gleipner—pretty well."

            "I agree," said Abe, and looked to Liz, who had been listening in silence. "Liz? What do you think?"

            "I think," she said slowly, "that a trip to Przez Las is in order, right away. And we bring some heavy protection." She glanced at Hellboy's enormous pistol and thought of her own little one, packed in her suitcase. She hated firearms.

            "I would like, if no one minds, to pay a visit to Professor Cook and his friend again first. I'd like to have another look at those chains, just to be sure."

            No one seemed to have a problem with that—well, Hellboy seemed to have a slight problem, but then again he had a problem with everything—and they decided that upon the morrow they would depart.

            The three BRPD agents spent the night preparing; the Samaritan's cleaning was finished and it was reassembled and tucked into its holster on Hellboy's immense belt, which hung off the bedpost, amulets dangling. Hellboy began packing a heavy-duty duffelbag with handfuls of ammunition, an extra coat, and, to Liz's surprise, he furtively stuffed in a medkit when he thought no one was looking.

            But Liz _was_ looking, and she went over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he looked up. She kept her hand where it was.

            "Why did you pack that medkit?" she asked quietly. "You never pack a medkit."

            "Just…got a bad feeling, is all. And it never hurts to be prepared; what if—Gods forbid—one of you got hurt?"

            Liz smiled, though not fully satisfied, and headed pack to her room to pack as well, stepping over Abe who was leaning over his dufflebag, carefully tucking in the book that contained the information on Fenris, extra warm clothing (Abe disliked extreme cold), and his own handgun. Separate backpacks containing bedding and rations would be prepared for each agent; the Polish government had made it clear that they would not be dropped off anywhere near the village of Pzrez Laz, so it would be a day or two of travel at least, as Liz had estimated by her map. All three were used to having to travel on foot, Abe and Hellboy especially (the amphibious man remembered Sweden with a shudder), so this revelation came as no surprise; they prepared the necessary supplies for it every time they were went on a mission. It was always a perk when they didn't have to use them, but Abe and Hellboy were seldom lucky when it came to easy, local missions. 

            "Awright," grunted Hellboy finally. "I'm goin' to bed. I have a feeling you're not gonna want to sleep in tomorrow."

            "You know me too well," said Abe, who was pulling back the sheets on his bed. Liz had closed her door about a half hour ago; he assumed that she, too, decided to turn in for the night. He glanced at the clock on the wall. 2:34 am. 

            "Well," he said, "here's to our last comfortable sleep for a while."

            Hellboy didn't answer; he was already beneath his slightly too-small blanket, fast asleep.

                        ***

            Hellboy was awakened the next morning by a biscuit to the head. _Better than a book_, he thought in retrospect. Whoever threw it probably didn't want a repeat of last morning's wakening, so he wasn't angry. Instead he groaned sleepily and shoved the bread into his mouth, swallowing it before he had even opened his eyes. When he finally did, he saw Abe and Liz readying their gear. Sighing, Hellboy rose and did the same.

            "We will leave from the museum and proceed straight to the designated dropoff point," said Abe, bent over his backpack. "While you were sleeping, Red, I received a message from the BPRD. I informed them of my suspicions regarding the events in Pzrez Las. They advised that we be quick about resolving this, and not to reveal our thoughts on the cause of the tragedy to the Polish government—Professor Cook and his parter included—until they give us the go- ahead."

            "Got it," said Hellboy as he strapped on his massive belt. It jingled loudly in the small room; a familiar sound, the sound of work about to be done. Despite himself Abe felt refreshed, energized, as he strapped on his gear and hefted the bags and backpacks that would be left in the car during their trip to the museum. 

            They arrived at their destination an hour and a half later, and Abe rapped upon the door once again with the giant copper gargoyle knocker. At first there was silence, and then there came the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Presently the door opened a crack, and Mr. Yanivich peered out at them. "Yes?"

            "Good morning, Mr. Yanivich, said Abe, hoping that the young man was hearing him, as his gaze was settled on Liz. Thankfully Hellboy hadn't noticed. Yet. "We were hoping to be able to have another quick look at those artefacts before we depart to Pzrez Las."

            "Of course." The young understudy opened the door wider, allowing them entrance, and led them down the hall. "Professor Cook should be in his office, though I have not seen him yet this morning. He will be pleased to see you."

            "Thank you," said Liz, and he flashed her a dazzling smile. Hellboy noticed this, and his yellow eyes narrowed. A low growl rumbled from his chest, but no one noticed.

            When they arrived at the office all were shocked to discover the door ajar, several pairs of small, dirty footprints on the ground. They all stopped, stricken. There was blood mixed in with the dirt, and they looked at though they were leading out toward the outside door, but faded away only a few feet from the office door. 

            "What the…" murmured Yanovich, stepping foreword, but was shouldered roughly aside by Hellboy. He was sniffing the air, and from the expression on his face he did not like that he smelled. He drew the Samaritan and held it ready at his side as the others followed him into the office…

            …Which had been trashed completely and thoroughly, as though someone had been searching for something.

            Professor Cook lay dead across his desk, covered with what looked like tiny stab wounds. He had bled out; there was a large puddle beneath him. The agents examined him closely while Yanivich looked on, his hands over his mouth, eyes bright with shocked tears. Then, slowly, he began rifling through the debris in the office, moving mechanically.

            "Hey," called Hellboy gruffly, and Yanivich looked up, startled. "Call the authorities. Be quick about it."

            Yanivich nodded slowly, and then in a soft voice said, "Should I tell them it has to do with the incident in Pzrez Laz?"

            "Why, what makes you think that?"

            Yanivich shakily pointed to the case where the chains had been stored. It was ransacked, destroyed; a ruin of what it once had been.

            "Because, sir," he said, "the chains are missing."


	4. Chapter Four: The Crime Scene

**Chapter Four: **_The Crime Scene_

The three Bureau agents sat with Yanivich as he wept quietly over the body of his former mentor. They let him grieve in silence, though Liz, always the one to comfort, had placed a hand gently on his shoulder and left it there, her brow creased with sympathy. Hellboy tried hard not to imagine that Yanivich was enjoying that immensely; he knew that now was not the time to let jealous suspicions cloud his judgement.

            In truth, they all felt more than a little sad as well. Professor Cook had been such a genial, hospitable, and charming man; though they had met him only once he had left a fondness in all their hearts. Hellboy especially was a little more than slightly pained, for Professor Cook had reminded him quite strongly of his father. 

            _How unfair_, he thought, _that it has to be people like this who meet the worst ends_. He sighed audibly, catching Liz's attention for a moment, and the two exchanged sad smiles. 

            The authorities arrived quickly; within ten minutes they had arrived and were swarming the room. Their numbers included regular police as well as government officials, several of whom the agents recognized upon their debriefing when they first arrived in Poland. The police would stop and stare at the three agents, mainly Hellboy and Abe, but were quickly ushered away by the officials, who looked irritated by their very presence.

            Finally, a man named Moshki Korczack approached them, clearing his throat officiously. He was the head of special operations department of the Polish government, and he filled his position well. He was one of the few officials they had met so far that Hellboy didn't mind; ironically his position was of the highest power, yet unlike his underlings he did not let this get to his head. 

            He faced them now, looking grim. "I have spoken to Mr. Yanivich. He has told me of the disappearance of the chains. It is a shame to lose such valuable artefacts, and an even greater shame to lose a man like Professor Cook."

            "You knew him, then," Hellboy said, placing a cigar in his mouth and lighting it. "I assume you'd have to; you're the one equipped to deal with this whole Przez Las fiasco."

            "You are correct," said Korczack. "It was I who ordered the search of the village, and it was I who contacted your Bureau for help. I visited Professor Cook frequently to examine the artefacts myself, but of course I have learned nothing from them. Partly I visited merely for the man's company. One must pity Mr. Yanivich; he knew him best, of course."

            "Of course," said Abe with a nod.  "I trust he has someone to look after him in this time?"

            "I don't know," confessed Korczack. "I don't know Mr. Yanivich very well, I'll admit; though friendly enough, he was always very quiet. I know nothing of him save that he was Professor Cook's understudy. Family is a subject that I have never heard brought up."

            "Maybe it would be prudent to ask?" suggested Abe with a shrug. "I would hate to leave him alone with no one to talk to after what has happened."

            "I'll speak to him again, if you think it's a good idea," said Korczack. He gave them each a nod, and then turned back to Yanivich, who had ceased his weeping and stood red-eyed over Professor Cook's corpse, looking thoughtfully down at it. Grief was still etched into the young man's handsome features, but he seemed to have gotten hold of himself. He did not smile when Korczack approached and obscured Hellboy's vision of him.

            He turned to Abe, a low growl of impatience rumbling like thunder in his massive chest. "This is getting a little too complicated for my taste, Blue. I'm tired of standing around doing nothing. We need to get our asses to Przez Las; finish this bullshit before someone else dies." He shot a pointed glance toward Yanivich, feeling the urge to kick out the rest of the glass that still clung to the steel supports of one of the cases, but Father had thought him that he must never touch anything at a crime scene. With a grunt he resisted.

            Abe nodded his agreement, his breathing collar hissing as he inhaled. Hellboy felt soothed by the sound. "We should not have to be here much longer; essentially we are useless at such a crime scene. I have noted the nature of Cook's injuries and the absence of the relics, but I believe that is all we can do. I would suggest that Mr. Yanivich relocate to a safer place, who knows if whoever or whatever did this might come back for something else."

            "I doubt it," snorted Hellboy. "Creatures that do things like this- they get everything they've come for the first time around."

            "Can you be sure this attacker was not human?"

            "_Attackers_, not 'attacker'. You saw the multiple footprints outside the door." He jerked his head to where officials were photographing the ground. "Lots of 'em—too many to be a single entity. Plus, they were small; smaller than human feet by quite a bit. And the wounds on Cook's body: tiny stab wounds, as though he were pierced by several tiny daggers. So many, in fact, that he bled out before anyone could find him. And," he added pointedly, "I could _smell_ 'em. Definitely not human."

            "I've learned to trust your nose, Red," said Abe quietly. "It's never led us wrong before. Your hypothesis makes sense."

            "And I've got a feeling," said Hellboy, his yellow eyes narrowing, "that all this leads straight to Pzrez Las."

                        ***

The Polish officials were soon finished with the agents of the BPRD; though Hellboy felt that the information he had figured out might be useful, he knew not to say a word without Bureau clearance. He wanted rather desperately to tell them; the poor saps were standing around like morose, confused kids lost in a department store, unable to do anything even as the coroner arrived to photograph and remove Cook's body. He did comfort himself, though, in knowing that his knowledge would not likely do them a bit of good; he, Abe, and Liz were the only paranormal agents there, and there was precious little the regular government could do about small creatures with tiny feet and tiny daggers that vanished with hardly a trace.

            _Yeah_, he thought, _better to keep my big mouth shut on this one. Should report my suspicions to the Bureau though…_ Quickly he looked around for an escape route, somewhere where he could go and send a transmission without being overheard, but the room was still swarming with people going in and out; he would look rather conspicuous shouldering his way outside, where he was sure that other agents were gathered.

            As though reading his thoughts, Korczack approached them again, walking quickly. He stopped and leaned in, speaking so quietly that Abe and Hellboy had to lean in to hear. "Listen, a crowd has gathered outside. All entrances are currently occupied with the general public; I would not advise your release until they have dissipated, for everyone's safety."

            The agents nodded wordlessly, though Hellboy blew a big sigh and rubbed his horn stumps in frustration. "Abe, we are _never_ gonna get out of here."

            Abe merely heaved a sigh of his own and looked morosely toward the door.

                        ***

It was a full three hours until the room had cleared of all but a few officials; the police had gone, and only a few of Korczack's less—than—personable lackeys remained, picking over this, checking that, casting dark looks at Abe, Hellboy, and Liz, who had returned to her fellow agents' sides when Yanivich excused himself to his room.

            "How's he doin'?" muttered Hellboy as he shoved another cigar into his mouth. His eyes glittered in the firelight of his Zippo as he lit it; Liz smiled at him despite herself. He had such beautiful eyes.

            "He seems all right," she said. "Better, at least. He's taking it pretty well. He been questioned pretty thoroughly by just about everybody; I don't blame him for wanting to go to his room for a while. Hopefully he'll be able to get a little sleep; it's been a horrific day for him."

            "It's been a pretty horrific day for us, too," said Hellboy through a cloud of smoke, "and it's about to get a lot worse. After we get clearance to leave here we go straight to that damned village; by my estimates it's gonna be about a four to five hour drive to where I suspect is the dropoff point." He shuddered. Their designated vehicle was nothing more than a black, sleek government sedan, definitely _not_ made to house a seven-foot demon on long car trips. He suspected that he was going to be very sore for the majority of the trip. Unconsciously he rubbed his neck, as though it already hurt from being cramped and bent in the low-ceilinged vehicle. 

            Liz looked at him sympathetically, understanding. She looked about to say something when one of Korczacks's lackeys came over, trying his best not to glower at them. "Mr. Korczack says that your exit has been secured; you are free to leave now. He also requested," here the lackey swallowed distastefully, as though he had eaten something foul, "that I inquire as to your need of an escort to your vehicle." 

            Hellboy smiled to himself; obviously, judging by the man's reaction, it would be him escorting them if they accepted the proposal. Seeing as he hated these damn toadies more then he hated pretty much everything else in Poland, he decided to allow himself a little liberty. Drawing himself up to his full height, he flexed the wrist of his stone right hand. It made a massive _crack!_ in the small room, and he rolled his shoulders a little, watching the man's eyes widen as he took a step back.

            "Nah," said Hellboy, gazing straight into the man's watery blue eyes with his gleaming yellow ones. "I don't think we'll be needing an escort."

            Grateful, the man turned and walked out of the room, but it was obvious by the tension in his shoulders and his short steps that he was trying his best not to run. Hellboy chuckled a little to himself; Liz tried to look stern but failed miserably, and Abe had focused his attention on the door, just happy to be leaving.

            They had made it halfway down the corridor when rapid footsteps sounded behind them. Turning, the agents saw Yanivich running towards them, a large backpack strapped across his shoulders and a small suitcase in his hand. 

            "Oh, no," groaned Hellboy.

            The young man approached, panting. "I heard you are leaving for Pzrez Las," he gasped. "I know that what happened here has something to do with where you are going; that the answers lie there. I will avenge my mentor if I can; he was like my father, and as such I feel an honour and duty to see that this horrible deed will not go unpunished. I am coming with you."

            "Now, hang on a minute," Hellboy began, but Yanivich held up a hand. 

            "I will not take 'no' for an answer, Mr. Hellboy. I am going with you."


	5. Chapter Five: The Decision

**Chapter Five: **_The Decision_

Mr. Yanivich stepped foreward determinedly, but Hellboy had remained where he was, his massive bulk blocking the human's path to the car. The Polish man stopped in front of him, frustrated but too intimidated to try and go around. With no other choice, he resigned himself to looking up into the demon's burning yellow eyes. He tried not to flinch.

            "Look, Mr. Yanivich," Hellboy began, but Yanivich stopped him again.

            "My first name is Janus, Mr. Hellboy. You may call me by that name. If we are to travel together, surely we must release ourselves from the bindings of formality."

            "Uh…sure," faltered Hellboy. "Look, first thing's first. While we're on the subject of names, why don't I suggest something? Don't call me 'Mr. Hellboy' again. I'm not too partial to 'sir' either. Okay?"

            Yanivich nodded respectfully. Hellboy continued. "Second thing is, I can't allow you to come with us on this trip, for two reasons. One: you're a human, and thus, you're more fragile. That makes you what we in this profession call a 'liability'. Two: you need to stay here and resume doing whatever it is you do in this museum, like Professor Cook wanted you to. Someone needs to look after this place, and I don't really see anyone more capable of doing that than you."

            Yanivich considered this for a time, mulling over Hellboy's words as the demon and his friends stood patiently, awaiting the outcome of the disagreement. Then he slowly shook his head.

            "I am sorry," he said, and truly sounded it, "but I am afraid I must continue to insist. I must help you defeat that which killed Professor Cook; he raised me when I was orphaned, trained me when I was ready, gave me paying work when my training was complete. I feel I must, at the very least, repay him for that. You bring up the fact that I am human…" He pointed at Liz and smiled at her. "Is she not human? And does she not accompany you nonetheless? I am capable of operating a firearm, Hellboy; I have done so in the past. With all due respect, humans are not so delicate as you seem to think. As for the museum, I have already spoken to my colleague Ivor, who will look after my section while I am away, and will take it over in the event of something unforeseen. All is ready; I must go with you. Please. I will never forgive myself if I do not do something about this, Hellboy. He will never be avenged."

            Hellboy's hands had dropped to his sides. He turned to look at Abe and Liz, a defeated look on his face. When Hellboy was unwilling to ask for something, his eyes always did it for him. They did so now, asking them for help, for an answer. He was not a diplomat; had never really given any sign that he even knew _how _to be diplomatic. He knew what Yanivich was going through; he remembered feeling the same way when _his_ 'father' had been killed, though he had been much less restrained about it. He remembered how good it felt, defeating Rasputin and Kroenen, and right before the Behemoth had swallowed the deadly nest of grenades he had thought, _This is for you, Father. This is the end_. A peace had come over him after that; Professor Broom had not died in vain.

            And yet, this man was a _human_! Delicate, easily breakable…Sure Liz was human too, but she was also an agent, trained and powerful. She had other methods of defence than a firearm; she had fire itself. She was used to things both paranormal and very dangerous. Yanivich had no experience here; he was trained in the quiet of a museum; Hellboy doubted whether he had ever encountered anything close to paranormal before this.

            So, he needed help. And Abe, gods love him, provided just that when he stepped between Hellboy and Yanivich and placed his hand on Hellboy's arm. Liz was behind him, watching. Hellboy wondered whether or not she had an answer too; her face was unreadable.

            Abe said: "Mr. Yanivich—Janus--, we cannot deny you the closure to Professor Cook's death. No one can. If you feel this closure will only come if you fight, then who are we to deny you? But you must realise the dangers you are about to face. There will be hardship, perhaps even death. There will be creatures the likes of which you have never seen nor dreamed of seeing. Plus," he added, the hint of a smile on his serious face, "Red here can be a real pain to have to tolerate for long periods of time."

            That somewhat broke the tension, and the all laughed a little save for Hellboy, who stood there looking vaguely miffed. He sniffed and lit a cigar. Yanivich seemed relieved.

            "I am aware of the dangers," he said. "I am not afraid. I am grateful for your generosity in letting me travel with you. I promise I will do nothing to hinder you; I understand that it is your job to kill this thing. I simply request that I might help you."

            "Then we leave now," said Abe, turning. "The car is waiting."

                        ***  

The beginning of the ride occurred mostly in silence. Abe and Yanivich sat up front while Liz and Hellboy squeezed into the back, the struts complaining loudly under Hellboy's considerable weight.

            "Need to go on a diet or somethin'," he grunted in a vague, lazy attempt at humour. He was feeling less and less in the mood for comedy, however, for with each rotation of the wheels the car seemed to get more cramped, the ceiling lower. _Great time to get claustrophobic_, he thought irritably. _This sucks_.

            "So how many miles from the city is this supposed dropoff point, driver?" he called up. 

            "I dunno," the man responded in a Russian accent. "Twenty miles, mebbee thirty."

            Everyone groaned.

            They had been driving for two and a half hours before the driver called out, "Break!" and pulled the car to the side of the road. Everyone piled out to stretch, and immediately Hellboy, Liz, the driver, and Yanivich all shoved cigarettes into their mouths. 

"Guess I'm the odd man out," shrugged Abe, smirking. Breathing smoke had never appealed to him; breathing air was hard enough.

The driver's jowls shook every time he smacked his cigarette pack on his hand, and Hellboy quickly found himself entranced by it. Liz caught him staring and smothered her laughter behind her hand. Both looked away as the driver finally stopped shaking his pack and regarded them with a sort of distant, professional curiosity. He had only seen them in the light a couple of times, and Hellboy and Abe were curiosities, all right. However, he did not gaze at them for long. He was not the type to stand and gawp until offence was taken.

            Especially by a seven foot, five hundred pound Hellboy. 

            He ground out the stub of his dead cigarette with the heel of his shiny black shoe, and got back into the car with a grunt. Everyone took this as his lead and followed, scrambling back in and settling down for the last leg of the car trip.

            It was longer than anticipated, but not by much. Abe conversed quietly with Yanivich as Liz whispered to Hellboy in the back seat. It was about as comfortable as it could get, considering, and by the time they arrived at their destination it was only Hellboy who was excited by the prospect of being let out. For a while it had been okay; with Liz whispering things to him he could take his mind off the screaming of his cramped muscles, but she had quieted after a while and he was aware of how sore he was again.

            When they pulled into the gravel turnout he threw the door open and leaped out, grateful that he could now stand at his full height, and that his tail could roam wherever it wanted instead of being all smashed against the door. He lit a cigar and grinned at Liz around it as Abe and Yanivich unloaded the supplies.

            "You big puppy," she chastised. "Your tail's wagging, you know."

            Hellboy looked behind him and noticed his tail lashing back and forth. "Huh. So it is. Guess it's as happy as I am to get out of that car. What I would have given for the old garbage truck for that ride."

            "Poor Hellboy," Liz said, flicking his arm. "Now go help them with the supplies."

            "Oh. Right." He trotted back over to the car and reached into the trunk, grabbing the last of the supply packs and shutting the hatch. He gave the driver the go-ahead with a jerk of his head.

            "Good luck, my strange friends," called the driver. "From what they have told me, you're going to need it!"

            In silence they watched the car until it disappeared.


End file.
